


Roof Over Your Head

by Solrika



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Gen, Home, Post-Recall, Ramblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8815678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrika/pseuds/Solrika
Summary: A sprawling, disjointed musing on what 'home' might be for a pair of ex-Blackwatch agents.





	

Genji and Jesse have safehouses all over the world, old Blackwatch contacts in every big city (and quite a few small towns), hundreds of little boltholes and weapons caches hidden under floorboards and in the back of restaurants. 

Jesse has a list of Gabe’s safehouses ( “just in case,” Gabriel said, eyes overbright, “keep yourself safe out there, kid” ). He doesn’t use them much. They’re too full of his commander–the plants painted on the walls, the beeswax candles in the drawers, the blue eye over each door. Just goes in now and then to sweep up the dust and make sure the pantry’s still stocked with canned food. 

When he was in Nepal, Genji would send Jesse a letter each week, every one to a different address. Jesse sends him pictures in return, a snap for each new place. Genji saves them all, prints them out, leaves one or two in each safehouse he stays in on the trek back to the Gibraltar base. It’s an echo of Blackwatch, leaving photos scattered for another agent to find, passing around memories. They still sometimes get pictures in the shared houses, or left in their more public caches–Chava or Ivan or Beimnet or another former agent passing by. _Still here_ , the photos say. _Still thinking of you_. 

Post-recall, they let their Overwatch teammates spring for a hotel and slip off in the middle of check-in. Safehouses aren’t _homes_ , per se, but they’re familiar, and private, and have knives under the mattress. 

“Where do you disappear off to every night?” Hana asks, once.

76 shakes his head like he’s rolling his eyes. “It’s a Blackwatch thing,” he says, momentarily forgetting that Blackwatch is a thing he shouldn’t know about.

“Yeah,” Jesse says, and leaves the knowing, sharp grin to Genji. Morrison is horrible at hiding, but it’s not polite to rub it in. “It’s a Blackwatch thing.”

Three weeks later, they’ll sneak her off with them, comm Lucio, Fareeha, and Zarya to let them know the coordinates if they want to join. Morrison’s been trying to baby them, and Genji figures they need a break and a chance to get drunk like adults. Jesse chooses a safehouse with a guest bedroom and a comfy couch. 

Fareeha brings arak, Zarya tequila and margarita mix. “We don’t have _this_ in Russia,” she says with glee, and sets about mixing drinks. Hana sprawls on the couch like a queen and supervises. Lucio sits at her feet, a glass of caipirinha in one hand. 

Three hours into the night, Jesse’s banging out old songs on a shitty guitar. Genji takes pictures, and gets up early to plaster them all over the walls. It’s not exactly like a Blackwatch party (no knives involved) but it leaves a familiar kind of contentment in his chest. 

They pass through that town again in a couple of months. Two of the photos of Hana have been taken, and in return Ji-ae’s left a note that says, _Take care of our champion!_  

It’s a hard, brutal battle that leaves them stumbling into one of Gabriel’s old safehouses. Jesse feels wrong, bringing nearly the whole crew here, but none of his and Genji’s boltholes are big enough. Gabe always made sure to get places large enough to sleep three squads ( “just in case” ), and Jesse blesses his commander’s paranoia. The house seems like it’s still secure after all these years, and even better, the halls are wide enough to let Reinhardt through. There’s first aid supplies under the sink, and stronger stuff in the main bedroom’s closet.

“Claim a bed, any bed,” Jesse calls, “I’m gonna get something cooking.” He makes beans from a can and rice to go with–simple and filling–and Genji finds him the spices to make it a little more palatable. 

The team ends up sprawling all over the house. Zenyatta shuts off in the kitchen. Lena takes one couch, long legs hanging off the edge, and Satya primly folds herself onto the other. The third’s occupied by Angela, finally imperfect in drooling sleep. Fareeha and Ana hole up in one of the bedrooms, Reinhardt claiming a mattress on their floor. Zarya, Lucio, and Hana curl up like puppies in the second bedroom. Genji and Jesse take the third, ignoring the second bed to tangle together. Morrison paces the hallways, and everyone is too tired to tell him to stop.

Jesse wakes once, just long enough for a big hand to comb through his hair and a familiar voice to whisper, “Go back to sleep, mijo.” 

“Figures this place’d be haunted,” Jesse slurs, and obeys. 

In the morning, they find Morrison sacked out in the bathtub. Someone’s thrown a blanket over him in the night, scratched “ _dumb place to sleep, boy scout_ ” in the wall by his head. 

“These old houses,” Genji shrugs, when Morrison spends a little too long staring at the words. “All kinds of funny things happen in them, you know.”

“Sure,” Morrison says, voice an uncertain rasp.

Genji shrugs again, and goes to help Jesse with cooking. Three cartons of fresh eggs showed up in the night, and they’re not about to waste the opportunity for a proper breakfast. 

They leave the house by noon, and Jesse has a feeling something’s watching them go. He waves at the darkened windows, just in case. 


End file.
